Page 151 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Her question held weight beyond the damn sandwich.
“No clue,” I muttered and selected the white cheddar popcorn.
I shoved the sandwich, a bag of popcorn, and a can of vanilla cream soda into a brown lunch sack with a napkin on top. Making my way to my desk, I pulled out a pen and hotel stationary.
“What are you writing?”
“Cool it, Veronica Mars.” The pen moved fast across the paper before Delilah could force her way over here. “You’re the less shiny knock-off of Nancy Drew. Let’s not exhaust your brain, sweetheart.”
You know those multiple-choice tests they give you in college? Everyone has a different version, ranging from version A to version D.
Except the professors don’t tell you that when you take it. So, people waste their time cheating off their neighbors… only to completely fail because they copied others when no one's test is the same.
If there’s a metaphor for life, it’s that.
I bet you were the girl who bubbled in your own answers.
Nash
I read the note twice over, returned to the kitchen, and slid it into the lunch sack.
“Can we not mention anything Veronica Mars related? I can’t get over the ending.” Curiosity still brimmed in Delilah’s eyes. They darted from the bag to me, as if considering whether she could steal it. “King was ready to kick me out of the house when I spent a solid week crying at everything.”
“Cool story, bro.” I folded the top over the bag and clutched it in my grip. “You should write a book about it.”
“For the record, if I did, it’d be a bestseller. With Rosco on the cover. Who’s a handsome puppy?” She lifted the rat into her arms and pressed wet kisses all over his naked face, sans ear muffs since the construction crew had taken off a few hours ago. “Who wouldn't buy a book with this beautiful face on it?”
“Literally, everyone on this planet and any extraterrestrial life on every other planet. If you showed up on a cult’s doorstep and told them Rosco is the second coming of Jesus, they’d find a different cult to worship.”
She ignored me and set Rosco down. He ran to the mini four-poster dog bed, I still couldn’t believe I allowed in my penthouse. “Blows my mind that no one has figured out who Emery is. Yeah, she’s going by a different last name and none of them are from the area, but she looks just like Virginia Winthrop. It’s obvious to me.”
“Yeah, if you’re blind in one eye and have a field of cataracts in the other.”
“They could be twins,” Delilah protested.
“Virginia looks like Cruella de Vil’s platinum blonde sister. You’re bullshitting me, right?”
She slanted her head, staring off into space. “I think it’s the face.”
“What about it? Emery’s nose is more upturned, she has a gray iris, and her eyes are bigger. Not to mention the long black hair compared to Virginia’s hacked-off bob.”
“Hmm…”
“Hmm, what?”
“It’s just…” Delilah grinned. “You seem to notice a lot about Emery Winthrop.”
“She’s my brother’s best friend, and I lived on her parent's property for nearly a decade.”
And I’ve been in her, on her, all over her.
“Why are you two talking about me?”
Our heads swung to the voice. I hadn’t heard Emery enter, but of course, she let herself in. She had a damn key, which I should have demanded back after the shower incident. Her hoodie engulfed her, but I noticed no magic word on this tee.
It threw me off balance. I recovered slowly, like I’d suffered a career-ending injury.
Kobe and his torn Achilles.
